


The Void In Your Chest

by Talvenhenki



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alexithymia, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Look I don't know what to make of this ship, Self-Worth Issues, They're so difficult to understand sometimes, fuck if I know mate, like are they romantic here or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvenhenki/pseuds/Talvenhenki
Summary: One evening, a distraught Lancelot knocks on Leon's door to ask for help which Leon would prove without a moment's hesitation.
Relationships: Lancelot & Leon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Void In Your Chest

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely connected to my fic Cold Night Comforts, but I don't think you need to read that one before this. Maybe.
> 
> No proofreading, as always

There was a knock on the door. Leon looked up from his letters, having been reading the few he’d got from distant friends that afternoon. Wondering who it could be – Leon didn’t get visitors _that_ often – he made his way to the door to open it.

Lancelot was standing in the corridor. He was looking at his feet and his posture betrayed some exhaustion; Lancelot often carried himself with straight back. To see him so deflated alarmed Leon who still remembered their late-night talk about how they both sometimes felt too tired to move. Was Lancelot feeling so, or was there something else weighing on his mind? As private a person Lancelot was, he had begun to open up to Leon who was immensely grateful for the trust.

“You once told me”, Lancelot breathed, “that if I ever felt the exhaustion again, I’d be welcome to ask for help. I…I think I need your help.”

Pulling Lancelot close, Leon hugged him tight. Lancelot sighed. He gripped Leon’s tunic which was a tell-tale sign of needing support. Lancelot didn’t often verbally ask for help – it was as if he didn’t feel like he deserved it. Which, in Leon’s opinion, was complete rubbish.

“Let’s get you inside”, Leon said softly, “I’ll get you a chair near the fire. To keep you warm.”

Lancelot followed Leon inside. He was silent, using all the strength he had to walk to the chair Leon had for him. His eyes were dark, laced with pain. Was the exhaustion caused by sadness, or some physical form of pain Leon did not yet know of?

As Lancelot sat on the chair, Leon knelt next to him. He studied Lancelot. The melancholy that Lancelot often hid was plain on his face, and so was the unknown pain that alarmed Leon. Lancelot was known to hide his pain – seeing it so plain on him was a surprise to Leon, and definitely not the pleasant kind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Leon asked. He was holding Lancelot’s hand, absentmindedly stroking his knuckles while waiting for Lancelot’s answer. “If you tell me what’s hurt you so, perhaps I can help you.”

“The thing is”, Lancelot said, his voice strained, “I don’t know. I feel a pain in my chest, a terrible pain, but I don’t know what causes it.”

Leon held his breath. He had heard of this, of not understanding one’s feelings, but he’d never known anyone suffering from it. Squeezing Lancelot’s fingers, he tried to encourage his friend to continue explaining what he felt, and how it had begun.

“Sometimes, when the exhaustion comes”, Lancelot whispered, “it feels like there is a gap, an emptiness where my heart should be. I think back to my family, to my village, and I feel…I feel numb. Unreal, even. Like the world were leagues away from me. How do I manage such a feeling?”

Leon had sat on the chair opposite to Lancelot’s. “I think”, he said, “you have just taken the first step. By coming to me and asking for help.”

Sighing, Lancelot leaned forward. He buried his hands in his hair, tugging at it. It was his way of grounding himself, Leon had noticed. It made Leon incredibly sad to know that Lancelot needed pain to ground himself when another kind of pain was overwhelming him.

“Hey”, Leon said, his voice now soft, as he placed a hand over Lancelot’s shoulder, “I know it feels like it’s too much now, but you’ve already done the hardest thing. _You asked for help._ I’m so proud of you for managing that. I know how difficult it is for you. I’ll help you with the pain. I promise.”

Lancelot looked up. “How?” he asked, desperate. “How am I to manage such a pain?”

“As far as I know”, Leon explained, “depending on others is the best way around it. I know it is difficult for you, but I also know it helps. As long as I’m able, I promise to help you. Can you describe the feelings that made you turn to me for help?”

Lancelot swallowed. “It’s kind of like emptiness”, he breathed, “an emptiness where my heart should be. I can feel it beating, but I also feel the emptiness pressing down on me. My chest is empty and yet it weighs me down and leaves me gasping for breath.”

Leon scooted closer to Lancelot and began stroking his hair. Lancelot was gripping his tunic and rubbing his chest right where his heart should be. This was an odd behaviour – _perhaps it relates to the emptiness Lancelot described_ , Leon thought.

“What were you thinking of when the emptiness begun?” Leon asked softly.

“My village.”

Leon should have guessed it. He pulled Lancelot into his arms, not knowing what he could say to comfort the younger knight. He could sense Lancelot’s confusion at the sudden hug, the way Lancelot wasn’t sure if he should hug Leon as well or not. Eventually, Lancelot settled on wrapping his arms loosely around Leon’s waist and sighing softly.

“If I know you at all, I’m right when I say you blame yourself for what happened”, Leon whispered as he rubbed Lancelot’s back. “I know you for a kind and noble fool who thinks that a child could have fought a dozen robbers all alone.”

“But I should have helped to fight!” Lancelot insisted. His voice was strained with the emotion he still could not identify. “I should have fought along the others! What right do I have to live that the others didn’t?”

Pulling away, Leon looked deep into Lancelot’s eyes. “You were a _child_. You could not have changed the outcome, no matter how much you keep insisting you could have.”

Lancelot shook his head, blinking. It was marvellous, Leon would think later, how much Lancelot reminded him of a child experiencing grief for the first time. As much as Lancelot had experienced, he still lacked the knowledge of so many things that to Leon were mundane, such as his feelings. It made Leon sad, in a way, to realise that Lancelot had never had the luxury pf acting out on his emotions or throwing a tantrum, even as a child.

Leon truly felt far more privileged than he’d ever known himself for.

“And besides”, Leon said softly, “your right to live isn’t defined on someone else having lost theirs. Even if you can’t protect someone, it doesn’t mean you lose your right to be protected. What you lived through was horrible, but you must understand that it does not affect the way others should treat you. No one has any right to tell you that you don’t deserve to live, to be _here_.”

Lancelot looked at Leon, his eyes glistening. “If I’m not defined by the things I do”, he whispered, “then how am I to find what defines me? How am I to know I deserve any of this?”

“I think”, Leon breathed, “that maybe we aren’t meant to find what defines us. Or perhaps we’re defined by how we treat others in every-day basis. Not some grand, heroic deeds we do, but the smiles and joys we bring to others. The way you treat Merlin, for example. Others can see your kindness through the way you act around the servants. If you don’t deserve your life here, then no one does.”

Lancelot shook his head. “No. No, I cannot be that kind person everyone thinks I am. I don’t…You are wrong. You _must_ be wrong. I’m not kind or good, Leon.”

Leon took hold of Lancelot’s hand. “I think you have far too low an opinion of yourself. We shall work on that as soon as we get a chance.” Smiling, he squeezed Lancelot’s fingers. “Now, do you want to stay for the night? I find sleeping alone after such a dreadful amount of emotion very lonely.”

Smiling gratefully, Lancelot nodded. It wouldn’t cure his problems, not instantly, but company would make it easier to bear, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Comint?


End file.
